That single word, yes, was like a key unlocking a door. Stepping through that door would lead me deeper into this house, and closer to opportunities I'd only dreamed of.

And of course, it would also bring me closer to Oliver in ways I couldn't possibly foresee. 

Placing a hand against the small of my back, he guided me out of the room. Now that we'd come to an agreement, he wore an easy smile. The guard who'd been told to count the money I'd brought was waiting patiently outside.

"It's all there, sir," he told Oliver.

Did any of us really have a doubt about that? I asked myself. My father was an asshole, but he was no idiot. Thinking of him now, I said, "I need to call my dad. My phone's in my purse; I had to leave it in the car when I was searched—"

"Your belongings are fine," the guard said, as if I was worried about anything I owned being of interest to these men.

Oliver's hand slid lower to rest on my hip. He had his arm around me now. "Contact Dreama's father," he told the guard. "Let him know she arrived safely and is enjoying an evening here."

"Yes, sir." If the guard was surprised by this turn of events, he didn't show it. I couldn't help but wonder how many years he'd been working for Oliver. Strands of gray were threaded through his dark hair, which he wore in a crew cut. Maybe the two men went back a long way.

"And Ted?" Oliver's jaw tightened ever so slightly before he continued. "Make it clear to her father that he and I have some loose ends to tie up before my business with him is finished."

Those words sent an icy wave of dread sloshing in the pit of my stomach, but Ted remained unfazed. "Of course, sir."

The farther Oliver led me into his massive house, the fewer guards were present. Finally, a young man greeted us with a pleasant smile. Studying his face, I was astonished by his resemblance to Oliver. I guessed he was in his late twenties, and while his frame was slighter, I felt I could have been looking at Oliver fifteen years ago. The two of them had to be related somehow.

In a button-up shirt and dress pants, this man seemed refined and professional, but he was also kind enough to ignore my inappropriate outfit.

"Damien, this is Dreama, my guest for the evening," Oliver said.

Damien's eyes filled with warmth as he held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dreama."

My shyness faded a little more, and I managed to return his smile. "Nice to meet you, too."

"Bring a cold drink upstairs," Oliver told Damien. His expression was almost playful when he looked over at me. "Dreama appears to be a little flushed."

That remark made my cheeks burn hotter, which was probably Oliver's intention.

"Of course," Damien said. "Anything for you, Oliver?"

Not sir, but Oliver. The familiarity between them made me even more convinced they were related.

"Not right now, thank you."

A few moments later, Oliver and I reached a beautiful winding staircase. As we ascended it, I slid my palm along the wooden banister. Oliver slowed his stride to match mine. All the while, his hand rested lightly on my back.

Without speaking, he led me to a bedroom with a balcony. My gaze was immediately drawn to the stunning view outside. The nearby hills were such a vibrant green that they appeared almost dreamlike.

"I've never been in a place so beautiful." Looking around, I admired the luxuriously large bed and fine furnishings. Once again, I felt painfully awkward. Yet as gorgeous as this room was, I sensed it wasn't the master bedroom. After all, I reminded myself, I was merely a guest here. Gesturing toward a doorway that I assumed led to a bathroom, I asked Oliver, "Do you mind if I use that? I'll just be a minute."

"Take your time, Dreama. I want you to be comfortable here."

I gave him a grateful smile. He could have been demanding, or worse, eager to exert the power he clearly held. Instead, he continued to act like a gracious host.

The bathroom had a tub so large that I could have practically swum laps in it. After closing the door, I hurried to the toilet to relieve myself. All my anxiety had resulted in an achingly full bladder. Once I was finished, I freshened up at the sink as best as I could, but I still would have liked to take a shower before doing anything intimate.

When I stepped back into the bedroom, Oliver was standing before the French doors that opened onto the balcony. He'd been staring out at the landscape while smoking another cigarette. Turning to me, he smiled. "Your drink's ready."

I followed his gaze to a nearby table. "Thank you." I eagerly lifted the glass to my lips, for I was indeed thirsty. I discovered the drink was sparkling water, flavored with fresh fruit. Once I'd finished it, I longed to scoop out the orange slice and berries in order to enjoy them, too. Instead, I reluctantly placed the glass back on the coaster.

I noticed the bedroom door was firmly closed. Oliver put out his cigarette and then approached me. His expression held a hunger I hadn't seen before, not even when he was playing with my pussy downstairs. Before he had a chance to touch me, I blurted out, "Do you want me to shower first? I washed up in the bathroom, but I'm still a bit sweaty. It's warm outside, and I was really nervous before—"

"You're perfect." He placed gentle emphasis on both words, letting me know the matter was settled. His lips parted slightly as he slid his fingertips along my jawline, and then lower to caress my neck. "Are you still nervous?"

"No," I lied. I didn't want him to think I'd be skittish every time he tried to touch me.

Oliver lifted an eyebrow, and I suspected he could easily see past all my bullshit. Yet he simply said, "Good. Then you can undress me now."

For several seconds, I was too shocked to react. Wasn't he supposed to be undressing me? The shadow of a smile pulled at his mouth, letting me know he derived pleasure from my bewilderment.

"Alright then, I'll start for you," he said in a low voice. "But you will take over, Dreama."

I watched as he took off his shoes and socks; again, there was a playfulness about him I couldn't help but notice. Still, when the laughter in his eyes vanished, I understood he expected me to obey his command, and this time, I didn't hesitate. I was grateful he didn't have on a tie, because my shaking hands would have made it difficult to loosen the knot. Tentatively, I began by sliding his suit coat from his shoulders. He shrugged out of it entirely, letting it fall to the floor.

As I started on the buttons of Oliver's shirt, his breathing was deep and even. Meanwhile, I was trying not to pant from nervousness. I realized he liked me this way: a little unsure but determined to complete my task. When I glanced up at him, he winked at me, and I had to grin.

After I'd stripped him of his dress shirt, he pulled his undershirt over his head. I openly stared at his broad shoulders and muscular torso. His chest was covered in ample hair. But what most grabbed my attention was a horizontal scar on his left side, over his ribcage. Though it had long since faded to white, it wasn't smooth and flat like the few small scars I had. Instead, it looked as if it had been inexpertly stitched, with the skin hastily pulled together. It reminded me of the uneven ridges on the hills outside.

"What happened?" I dared to whisper while sliding my fingertip over the scar.

"An altercation many years ago, when I was about your age." Oliver's touch was surprisingly tender as he stroked my hair. "I came from nothing, and I had to fight to hold onto whatever I earned. You and I are not as different as you might think."

Before I could stop myself, I leaned to press my lips against Oliver's scar. I heard his faint sigh; for some reason I didn't understand, it sounded full of pleasure.

"Sweet girl," he said, then gently cupped my chin. Standing up straight, I waited expectantly. "Explain to me how a beautiful young woman like you has no... experience." He drew out that last word, which was the one I myself had chosen to describe my naivete when it came to sex.

I struggled to meet his eyes. "I told you my mom left a few years ago. She didn't like my father working for you, but more than that, she was sick of him being so controlling. She had to account for every hour of her day, and for every dollar he gave her to spend. When she finally had enough, I begged to go with her, but..." Swallowing hard, I forced myself to continue. "She said she wanted a fresh start, and she wasn't about to get tied up in a long custody battle with my dad. All she wanted was to escape, even if that meant leaving everything, and everyone, behind."

Oliver caressed my cheek. "Was he violent toward her? Or toward you?"

"No," I replied truthfully. "And after she was gone, my dad seemed devastated. He was also angry that I'd wanted to go with her; I think he felt betrayed. I tried to explain that a girl needs her mom..." My voice quavered. "He was really strict. Each day, I went to school and then had to come right back home. I wasn't allowed to get a job to earn my own money, even after I graduated. Hell, I was lucky he allowed me to get my driver's license." Helplessly, I gestured to my outfit. "With the small allowance he gives me, I can't afford nice clothes."

Again, I noticed that subtle tightening of Oliver's jaw. "Your father has profited handsomely from our business dealings, and he shares none of this wealth with you?"

"He gives me a place to stay," I replied with a shrug. "He makes sure I don't go hungry. Without him, I'd have nothing at all."

"But you will after tonight," Oliver quietly reminded me. "And what about friends? Do you have someone to stay with now that you're determined to leave your father's house?"

My laugh was bitter. "It was impossible to make friends when I couldn't hang out with anyone outside of school. The rumors about my dad didn't help, either. I was always careful to keep my mouth shut, but people around town still whispered about my father working for a dangerous man."

"It seems I've indirectly contributed to making your life hell." Despite Oliver's frank words, his expression softened. "You must hate me."

"I don't," I insisted.

Lifting an eyebrow, Oliver searched my face for deception, and when he found none, he lowered his lips to mine. It was another of those kisses that made me practically swoon. I loved the way his tongue gently explored my mouth, as if determined to become intimately familiar with it.

When I stroked him through his pants, he broke the kiss, breathing a little faster. I set about unbuckling his belt, my apprehension growing as I pulled it from its loops, but Oliver made no move to take it. Relief swept over me at the realization that he didn't plan on using the belt in our activities this evening. Plenty of other men would have.

After removing my sandals, I unfastened Oliver's pants. It was strange to undress him while I remained clothed, but I found I preferred it like this, at least at first. I could focus on him completely without being plagued by self-consciousness. In the process of lowering his pants, I sank to my knees before him. I couldn't stop staring at his erection, which was prominent beneath his boxer briefs.

"Finish what you've started," he gently urged.

Taking another deep breath, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of Oliver's underwear. When I pulled his briefs down to his thighs, his cock sprang forth, making me gasp. Though I was a virgin, I wasn't completely clueless. I could only guess at the length of his dick—seven and a half inches? Eight? But I knew it was big. How would I be able to take all of it inside me?

Fighting back my anxiety, I studied this most intimate part of him. His pubic hair was neatly trimmed, and I saw that his balls were shaved smooth. I was fascinated by the way his foreskin retracted to expose the glistening, pink tip of his cock.

After Oliver stepped out of his underwear, I looked up at him, seeking guidance. His smile was reassuring. "Touch me, Dreama."

Another faint sigh escaped his lips when I wrapped my fingers around his shaft. Simply stroking him made me again grow wet. I found I enjoyed sliding his foreskin back and forth, and by the sounds he made, I knew he enjoyed it plenty, too.

"You like playing with my cock, don't you?" he said in a guttural voice.

Gazing up at him, I readily nodded. Arousal competed with my residual nervousness, but eventually, arousal won out. I finally grew brave enough to give Oliver's tip a lick. I tasted salt, and breathing in, I caught a trace of his scent. It heightened my own lust until I was eagerly stroking his dick with one hand and cupping his balls in the other. They were heavier than I'd imagined.

Oliver laughed low and soft, clearly pleased. "I love how curious you are."

His praise served to embolden me. Leaning forward, I circled my lips around his cockhead.

"That's it, darling!" he moaned. "Suck the tip."

I immediately did as he said. Swirling my tongue over his skin, I gathered up a thin fluid and realized it was precum. The ability to excite him gave me a rush of satisfaction. Though I'd just gotten started, I discovered I very much enjoyed doing this. It didn't take long for me to figure out that he loved it when I slid my tongue against the underside of his cockhead.

"Oh, that's good!" Oliver rested a hand on my head but didn't force me. His encouragement built my resolve until I was ready to take him deeper. I relished the sound of his gasp as my lips slid down his veiny shaft. He soon filled my mouth completely, and I opened even wider to accommodate his cock.

In my eagerness for more, I got too carried away and gagged myself. Disappointment tempered my previous triumph, for I'd managed to take only a little over half his length in my mouth. Looking up at him sheepishly, I apologized.

"Don't be sorry." His smile was almost tender. "That mouth of yours excites me just as much as having my dick buried in a woman's throat."

I blushed at his compliment. He didn't seem like a man who was thoughtless in giving one. Maybe it was foolish of me, but I believed his words.

"All of this takes practice," Oliver went on, "and I'm a patient man."

Following his murmured instructions, I licked him from base to tip. My tongue traveled along his shaft before homing in on the spot that seemed to excite him so much. He told me to suck his cockhead's underside, and when I did, more precum emerged. I sensed his delight in my willingness to lap it up.

While continuing to stroke him, I nuzzled his sack. His skin was smooth and warm beneath my lips. Tentatively, I took his right ball into my mouth.

"Ah, fuck yes!" he breathed.

By this point, my panties were uncomfortably wet. Suckling his right nut, and then his left, I longed to slip a hand between my thighs and touch myself. When I returned to pleasuring Oliver's cock, he made a sound like a growl. My eyes widened at the feel of him growing even harder in my mouth.

Again, I had to stop, but I was pleased by my progress. I'd managed to take a good deal more of his cock this time. He seemed quite pleased as well, for he drew me to my feet and gave me a hungry kiss.

I let him pull my tank top over my head, all the while embarrassed by my pink bra. It had faded to almost white after so many washings. With skilled fingers, Oliver unhooked the bra's front clasp. I rushed to remove the undergarment, and when my breasts were fully exposed, he lowered his head to draw my nipple into his mouth.

The pleasure his suckling gave me was so powerful that I couldn't help but gasp. My gaze settled upon the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. I was startled by the abject lust my expression held, and even more so by the way I cradled Oliver to my breast.

His lips traveled lower until he knelt before me. It was strangely arousing to see him on his knees, and my excitement soon overrode all inhibition. He wasted no time stripping me out of my shorts. All that now remained was my plain cotton underwear. Instead of removing them right away, Oliver cupped my ass in his hands and then buried his face between my thighs. I felt his tongue, hot and wet, against the crotch of my panties.

Something wild came over me then. Grabbing fistfuls of Oliver's hair, I began rocking my hips in order to grind my pussy against his mouth. My lust fed his, and he rushed to strip me completely naked. The sound of my heavy breathing filled the room as he spread my outer labia farther apart. I'd shaved them smooth during my shower that morning.

"What a gorgeous clit you have." His stare was so intense that I almost wanted to hide, but the sensation of his fingertip circling my swollen bud persuaded me to stay still.

Climbing to his feet, Oliver gathered me in his arms. I wrapped myself around him, and we shared another kiss. It was slow and tender, so unlike the urgent need consuming us both.

He easily held me while drawing back the bedcovers, and as soon as he laid me down, I released a moan. I'd never before felt the luxury of silk sheets against my skin. When Oliver climbed onto the bed to join me, I gaped at his erection.

I figured he would move quickly to fuck me. After all, we were in bed, and I was so wet that my juices had coated my inner thighs. But Oliver again took his time, first kissing my mouth and neck, and then my breasts. He sucked my right nipple, and I felt like I was submerged in a warm sea of lust when he drew most of my small breast into his mouth. Reeling from arousal, I remained constantly aware of his hard cock between us.

His gaze met mine, and he smiled at whatever he saw in my eyes. Again, he kissed his way down my body before settling between my spread legs. I tensed, suddenly anxious about my smell and taste.

Oliver licked and kissed my inner thighs, working me into a desperate state. I quaked with need even as I grew a bit terrified by the intimacy of this act. He seemed to enjoy making me wait. My muscles tightened when his mouth inched toward my pussy.

And then he began devouring me with utter abandon. Looking down at him, I couldn't suppress a loud cry. His lips and tongue, so eagerly exploring my folds, chased away all my tension, and I soon relaxed against the bed. The sound of his satisfied groans mingled with my sighs and pleading whimpers. He hadn't yet licked my clit, and I was already rocking my hips again, trying to work my needy cunt against his face.

Oliver lifted his head and flashed a wicked grin. The first teasing sweep of his tongue over my clit sent a fierce shudder through my entire body.

"You like that, sweetheart?" he asked in a low voice.

"So much! Don't stop!"

"Mmm, I think you should tell me just what you want."

"I want you to..." My face burned with fresh embarrassment. "I want you to use your tongue."

"You can be dirtier than that." 

I growled, which was better than giving in to my urge to scream. "I want you to eat my pussy!"

"Good girl," Oliver said. And then he proceeded to give me just what I wanted.

My God, his tongue was incredible! How could this man so easily please me far more than my fingers ever had? The fervent working of his mouth sent continual waves of bliss straight to my core.

Sliding his hands upward, he cupped my breasts and fondled my nipples. That sensation, combined with the feel of his lips circled around my clit, drove me closer to orgasm. When he dared to suck my tender flesh, I couldn't hold back a scream. Meanwhile, I prayed no guards were nearby.

As his mouth continued pleasuring me, he eased a finger into my pussy. I squeezed my muscles around it, which made him moan louder. He soon added another finger, and I whimpered at the feel of being gently stretched. If two of his fingers were exerting this kind of pressure, I didn't know how I'd manage to take his cock.

I couldn't dwell on that thought for long, because Oliver began gently thrusting his fingers while lashing my clit with his tongue. The orgasm that descended upon me was powerful enough to make my spine arch. I couldn't even scream now, for the fierce spasms stole my voice. Instinctively, my hips rocked while my pussy milked Oliver's fingers.

He kept up his continual stimulation until I shuddered helplessly. At this point, I felt possessed by need. Oliver was right before, when he said I was ready for sex. I knew it would hurt, but I was desperate to have him inside me.

Finally, he showed my sensitive clit mercy and moved to lie at my side. His kiss was feral, and in it, I tasted my own wild arousal. Guiding my hand to his cock, he asked, "Is your answer still yes?"

I realized he was offering me one last chance to change my mind. Instead, I readily stroked him. "Tonight," I said, "my answer's always yes."